Member Testimonial: Rick Crenshaw

My name is Rick Crenshaw. My wife Susan and I came to this church 23 years ago. I want to tell you why the Church of the River is important to me and why I think it is important that we support this church.

I was born into a happy, middle-class, very large, very Catholic family. If you saw the movie “My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding”, you’ll understand what I mean by family. Five siblings, twenty-seven first cousins along with all the aunts, uncles, and then on to the second cousins and all my parents best friends and their kids! We were all very close. Growing up, I was immersed in Catholicism. I went to Catholic elementary and high schools. There was daily mass at school where I was an altar boy. With the exception of the kids in my neighborhood, everyone I knew and loved was Catholic... and they all seemed very happy.

I loved being part of my Catholic community. It provided friends, fellowship, boy scouts, holiday gatherings with all the cousins and with it laughter and joy. I loved the pageantry of the high mass, the candles, the stories of the saints, the music, the passion, and the mystic nature and the magic of it all. A big part of that love for Catholicism was my mother, Frances. There are people who, not so kiddingly, called her St. Frances. She was the embodiment of what I thought unwavering faith in God and Jesus could provide.

Only that didn’t happen for me. I ‘got’ the “love your neighbor” part, but much of what I was taught didn’t seem reasonable or possible to my young mind. One day after mass, I had a brief discussion with my teacher, a nun, about purgatory and the concept of ‘indulgence’ (seems someone had calculated the exact number of years for which you get credit from purgatory for saying certain prayers.) It was then realized I could not believe what I was being told. By the age of 11, I was a doubting Thomas. I could not accept that faith which gave my mother such serenity and goodness. I didn’t understand what was wrong with me. I considered myself good. I knew I was. Why didn’t I ‘get it’? It gnawed at me. Was I blind? Was I ignorant? I kept my mouth shut. And so it went through high school. My friends laid claim to personal and emotional experiences of faith. And I... I attended daily religion class and several retreats... all along hoping I would ‘receive the ‘Holy Spirit’... or ... something.

Sure enough, in my junior year of high school I had my revelation - it was this.... that I must finally accept what I had been fighting all along - my own reason and judgment. And that was it. There I was at age 17, alone, as I came to this realization. At least, I knew of no others. It was the secret I had been harboring since the age of 11 come to the surface.

No longer a doubter - I was a non-believer. I had to inform my parents. My mother was crushed. Word got out. I was the first of my family in my generation to publicly reject the family religion. Like that family in the movie, you are family forever. But you can image the trauma I caused. Embarrassment, disappointment, and shame for my parents... disapproval from so many others. It was as if I had contracted a virus. Something my aunts, uncles, and parents’ friends didn’t want their kids to catch. But the choice was to live with a lie and be in, or live honestly and be out. I was now out - relegated to the sidelines. I lived that way - from age 17 to age 33 - outside looking in on a community that meant so much to me as a child. I was angry to be put in that position. As immature as it was, that anger kept me out of any church except for weddings and funerals for years.

When Susan and I had children, she began to talk of the need for a church we could join. I refused to listen. She began to ask me - what spiritual experiences will we give our children, where will they marry, who will speak at our funerals, and so on. I saw the sense in it and agreed to a search for a spiritual landing place but worried what compromise I would have to make to do so. I remembered reading in the newspaper a story of how this ‘Church of the River place’ embraced Peter Barrosse, the first publicly acknowledged person to have acquired AIDS in Memphis at a time other churches were fearful, and worse, condemning. Here, I thought, is a church that I might be willing to join. So one Sunday, with Susan, I made the first visit to a church service in a very long time.

I was a little anxious as I sat in the pew that Sunday morning and stared out the window at the magnificent view. I was surprised to find the first song was exalting, of all things, rational thought!! Next, I heard in the announcements, ‘Welcome! We are a non-creedal church’ (as someone weaned on the Apostles’ Creed you can imagine the relief I felt) and then, ‘we need not think alike to love alike’. The sermon asked questions rather than explain what I should think. I was sold. First visit. Within a few weeks Susan and I joined the church. I recall being sorry that I had waited all those years.

So... Why is the Church of the River important to me? Why do I support it?

Because when I was young and angry, I thought I could live my spiritual life without reference to others. I didn’t need people telling me what to believe. But what I found out that Sunday 23 years ago is that no one is an island unto themselves. I realized I need this church. I need it because it welcomes those who examine and question faith in the search for truth, and because here we are asked questions that call upon us to work toward our own understanding of right living and action.

And, I believe, you need it, too. I think ‘we’ need it together. We need this church to help pull ourselves out of the daily grind, and as a community recognize our relationship to others beyond the business of acquiring our daily bread and shelter. We need that fellowship in the spiritual without being held hostage to doctrine and dogma.

Our children need it, too. They need a community who values them and where they learn to value others. Where they are empowered to reason and think, and seek the truth for themselves.

So, yes, I need this church. I’ve made my best friends here. But beyond that, the greater Memphis community needs this church - this refuge for the beleaguered and harassed - this welcoming home for the seekers - this light in the deep woods for those like me - this launching pad for doers to take action - Memphis needs this community - for all those to find, as I did. A place for everyone willing to love alike, even if we do not think alike.